Page 81 of Fast & Reckless
She’d tried so hard to avoid this—him. But now he was here, and he was looking at her in a way that set off alarms in her head. Why, why,whywas he seeking her out now? Why couldn’t she just erase him from existence, like blocking a contact on her phone, never to see him or hear from him again? But there was no blocking a real person, and after seven years, Brody McKnight, in the flesh, was standing in front of her, demanding her attention.
“I saw you scurrying past. How have you been, gorgeous?”
His familiar lazy Australian accent sent a wave of revulsion slithering down her spine. And that generic “gorgeous”? She’d bet money he didn’tquiteremember her name, which aftereverything, was so insulting she wanted to scream.
How had she let this asshole wreck her life the way he had? He wasnobody. Just some arrogant, semitalented piece of shit. Her nerves were making her feel shaky, but she refused to let him see that she was upset. No way would she give him the satisfaction of an emotional reaction.
“Brody.” Nothing about her body language or tone of voice was giving out any sort of invitation. But when had her wishes ever mattered to Brody? He’d always just taken what he wanted, when he wanted it.
“Nice to see you back on the track, doll. You’re looking great.”
“What do you want?”
He had the audacity to look surprised at her frosty tone, like he had no idea why she could possibly be angry with him. His golden eyebrows raised and he chuckled. “I just wanted to catch up, darling. To see what you’ve been up to.”
She flushed with anger, from her feet to the tips of her hair. It boiled up like a volcano in her chest, making her incandescentwith rage. “It’sMiranda! And I’m not your darling or your doll or any fucking thing else! I think you know damned well what I’ve been doing with my life, Brody. I’ve been putting it back together after you took a sledgehammer to it.”
Brody paused, a tiny hesitation in his slick game of seduction. His eyes, those twinkling green eyes she once thought were the clear, bright windows to his generous soul, flicked over her, assessing. The Prince Charming expression slipped for an instant before he recovered, grinning wider than ever. How had she ever fallen for this bullshit act of his?
“You’re still mad about that?” he said teasingly, like all he’d done was steal her parking space, not that he’d seduced her as a teenager, convinced her she was in love with him, and then tossed her out with the trash when the game stopped being fun. Her hands were shaking with the effort it took not to reach out and smack him.
“Mad?” She sighed, and raked her eyes down him in judgment. “I’d have to give a shit about you to be mad, and I don’t. If I’m mad at anyone, it’s me, for letting you take up so much fucking room in my head. You don’t deserve it. You never did. Everything about you is just a sad fraud, and I think you know that.”
He straightened up, all traces of that charming smile gone. He looked furious, which was good, because that’s exactly how she felt, and for once, he was going to hear it. “That’s why you always need a new girl, a younger one, because the young ones are easier to fool, right? They can’t see through you to what you really are, just a shell of a human being, filled with nothing but your own desperate, needy ego.”
His jaw clenched as he stared down at her. She willed herself to stare straight back at him. “You seem to have a lot of bruised feelings there, sweetheart.”
If she stayed another second, she was probably going to start crying, and she’d never let him see that. “I’m not your fucking sweetheart,” she spat, then she turned to make her escape.
“Hey.” He reached out and snagged her upper arm, his grip tight enough to jerk her back around to face him.
“YOU’D BETTER GET YOUR HANDSoff her, McKnight, before I rip your bloody arm off.”
Brody slowly released Mira—the sight of his hand gripping her arm had Will almost nuclear with rage—and turned to examine him. When he’d rounded the corner and seen Brody talking to Mira, seen how obviously upset Brody had made her, he’d been furious. But he wasn’t going to intervene. He was going to let her handle him herself—until the bastard touched her.
“Do you have a problem, Hawley?”
“I have a problem with you pressing yourself on a woman who clearly wants nothing to do with you.”
“She and I are old friends, so how about you step aside, mate?” Brody’s broad, drawling Aussie accent was just as annoying as his smug, shit-eating grin.
“How about you get your bloody ass out of our paddock …mate?”
Brody’s smarmy grin faltered, temper flaring in his eyes. “Look, keep your overtaking confined to the track, Hawley. Off the track, they’re all fair game.”
Will’s tenuous hold on his temper snapped. Reaching out, he grabbed a fistful of the front of Brody’s race suit. “She’s not some fuckinggame, asshole!”
Brody shoved at his arm and Will released him, breathing hard, teeth grinding in his fury. He felt Mira’s touch on his shoulder.
“Will, don’t. Just let it go.”
Brody’s eyes flicked from Mira, to his motor home behind her, and back to Will. “Ah, I see. I was poaching another man’s turf. Don’t blame you. I’ve sampled myself. Well worth it.”
It was impossible to tell if the roaring in his ears was his blood surging to a boiling point, or if it was his own shout of rage. All Will knew is that he lunged and his fist made loud, satisfying contact with Brody’s jaw. A sharp stab of pain radiated through his hand and up his arm, but he didn’t care, reaching for Brody, fisting his hands in his race suit again, hauling him forward. Brody swiped at him. Will dodged, but not quite fast enough, and Brody’s fist glanced across his cheekbone, snapping his head back. Before Brody could get in another one, Will drove forward, planting his shoulder in Brody’s chest and propelling him back against the side of the motor home.
Mira screamed, and the air around Will erupted in shouts as people rushed in from all corners of the paddock. Hands were grabbing at him, seizing his arms and shoulders, pulling him back away from Brody. A couple of Deloux mechanics had shown up, shoving themselves between him and Brody, and holding Brody back when he tried to come at Will again. Beyond thinking clearly, Will struggled against the hands restraining him, desperate to get at Brody and plant his fist in that fucker’s face, to wipe the smug smile off it once and for all.
“Will! Will, stop. Not here, not now.” That was Omar, shouting in his ear. Tae was there, too, on his other side.
